


Baby Boy

by writinginthesecrettrees



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, M/M, POV John Winchester, Parent/Child Incest, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24025531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writinginthesecrettrees/pseuds/writinginthesecrettrees
Summary: “Hurt me, daddy,” Sam says, and God help him John does.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 141





	Baby Boy

John’s not sure how heated arguments with his 16 year old son turned into this, but he knows sinking into Sam’s body is the hottest sex he’s ever had. Dean doesn’t know - Dean can’t know - but he does seem happier to have Sam and John fighting less. John lives in fear of an injury bad enough to need help, rehearses lies about marks bitten deep in his shoulders and chest, prays he’ll never need to test his lies on Dean.

Hard to fight when the look of anger in Sam’s eyes produces a Pavlovian response, makes his dick stand up and take notice. “Let’s go,” he growls at his youngest, “take a drive and talk it out,” and Sam’s look says he knows exactly what John means.

Sometimes John tries to go slow, but Sam’s biting sarcasm and feigned boredom push his buttons, make him slam into his son as hard as he can and Sam… Sam takes everything he can give and taunts him that it’s not enough. Scratches his back like a hellcat, grabs his hand and brings it to his throat and there’s an unholy excitement in Sam’s eyes when John’s fingers tighten there.

“Hurt me, daddy,” Sam says, and God help him John does, squeezes his hand tight enough there’ll be whisperfaint bruises around his boy’s neck, bites hard at his inner thigh, flips him face down and ass up and shoves in with nothing but spit to ease the way and Sam’s high thin scream as he fucks him open haunts John’s best dreams and worst nightmares alike.

Every time he reaches out, puts his hands on smooth, sungold skin, John promises himself it’ll be the last time, one last time to fuck it out of his system, and when he’s balls deep with Sam’s knees on his shoulders and pressing kisses to Sam’s mouth (getting bites back, sharp teeth drawing blood from his lip and tongue) he knows he’ll break it again.

John lives for the moments after, when Sam is sweaty and loose limbed and gives a sleepy smile with half-lidded eyes while John strokes his hair. When Sam snuggles into his side with a satisfied sigh, and John has to bite back the urge to call him “baby boy” because one time he did and Sam pushed him off mid-fuck, left him hanging, went back to screaming fights for a month before he opened his legs for John again.

He doesn’t know why it’s forbidden until he finishes a solo hunt early, rushes back to where he left his boys (tries to pretend he’s not desperate for the feel of Sammy tight around his dick, but he needs it more than he needs booze these days), and hears a familiar sound. Wants to shoot himself in the head for knowing Sam’s moans so intimately, wants to kick himself for ever thinking Sam was faithful to him. He can’t stop himself from opening the door.

Sees Sam on his back, and what’s left of John’s heart shatters when he recognizes his older son on top of him. Their movements are tender, reverent, Dean’s hand running down Sam’s side, up his thigh, supporting the slender legs Sam’s got wrapped around Dean’s waist, and Sam holding onto Dean like he’s never held John. 

Dean’s hand disappears between them, and Sam arches up with a voiceless cry of pure pleasure. “That’s it, baby boy,” John hears Dean say. “Come for me now.”

And Sam does, cries out “Daddy, daddy, daddy” as Dean thrusts into him, and John feels a stab of envy that Dean gets this Sammy through it all, not just a stolen moment of afterglow.

Dean buries his face against Sam’s neck, and Sam’s head tips over to the the side. John knows the moment Sam sees him by the way Sam’s eyes widen, the way his lips twist into a cruel smile.

“Daddy,” Sam says, lovingly, and Dean cries out with a final thrust, and John would be damned to Hell for watching his sons if he wasn’t already headed there.

“My sweet baby,” Dean murmurs into Sam’s neck, collapsed on top of him, Sam’s arms holding him tightly. “Baby boy.”


End file.
